


Bound To The Boss

by JackyJango



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Canon-Typical Violence, Dialogue-Only, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 22:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: After getting kicked out of his own company by his half-brother, Kastor, Damen switches between blue-collar jobs for six years before ending up working as Laurent DeVere Jr, CEO of DeVere Corporation's personal assistant.Damen hates his job at first and his Boss even more so. But then, everything changes.





	Bound To The Boss

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, this chapter is supremely long and so boring that it put even me to sleep. Lol.  
> But it was required in order to set-up the premise of the fic, so please enjoy it if possible! :D
> 
> Also, you won't find the Corporate setting described in this fic in reality because it's straight out of my head. lol.  
> All mistakes are my own, so please forgive me if there are too many (Okay, I know there are too many, so do forgive me anyways)
> 
> Cheers! :D

**Thursday**

          Damen  hates it.  Hates getting up early  in the morning . He reaches for his phone on the bedside stand and stabs the screen with unnecessary force to stop it from blaring noises into his ear. It’s  cold outside. When he opens his eyes unwillingly, he can see the fog descending onto the skyscrapers like false canopies, blurring his otherwise unobstructed view of the city. He likes the  cold ; he prefers it even- if only to stay at home and binge watch movies with hot chocolate and popcorn- not to wake up at 6 unholy o'clock  in the morning to start at his new job. 

He wills  his eyes to remain open, but with the cool breeze  flowing in through the crack around the windowsill and  flowing through his hair, he falls into a blissful sleep. 

Damen is sure that he had only closed  his eyes for five minutes when the treacherous sound of  his phone ringing pulls him back to wakefulness. He roots his hands in between the sheets desperately to find  his phone and stop it from spewing awful noise into the scant space. He finally finds it to Nik’s name on the screen along with his grinning face with a missing tooth staring at him through the cracked glass. 

‘Hello,’ he answers begrudgingly, voice  still hoarse from sleep.

‘What the fuck, Damen? Are you still asleep? It’s past seven, you fucker!’

‘Stop shouting,’ he groans. ‘I’ll be there on time.’

‘Like hell you will. Don’t you dare  fuck this up,  Damen. You have no idea how much I’ve  struggled to get you this  job .’

‘Well, the only requirement on the  job description was  _ male _ . I’m sure you  struggled a lot to portray me accordingly.’

He smiles smugly when he hears Nik’s groan from the other end. His senses are sharpening slowly at the prospect of vexing  Nik.

‘I mean, isn’t it sexist?’ Damen ploughs on, ‘Which arsehole would only want male PA’s. I hope he’s not a pervert or something.’

Nik inhales deeply as if steeling himself against being riled up. ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of defending yourself if it ever comes to that. Now listen to me very carefully, Damen, don’t pull the stunts you pulled in your previous job. Mind your own business. Do as you're told,’ and after a beat: ‘Address him as _sir_ unless prohibits you from doing so.’

‘ Yes Sir .’

‘Wear your suit and remember to shave.’

‘ Yes Sir .’ 

‘And,  Damen ?’

Damen waits for further instructions or pointers at professional behaviour or corporate dressing, but it doesn't come, instead: ‘I’m  glad you’re  back, brother.’

Damen smiles.  Nik is a good friend, probably the best.  But he doesn’t need to know that.

‘Glad to be back Sir,’ he says, revelling sadistically in the growl he hears from Nik accompanied by: ‘Oh fuck off!’ 

The line goes dead.

Damen laughs around a yawn, content with irritating  Nik to his liking. He wouldn’t stop it. No matter how much  Nik called him childish. 

With only 10 minutes left to get ready, he dashes off to the bathroom. 

*

Marlas is just how  Damen remembers it. The skyline of downtown is etched into his memory. He feels the throb of the city in every breath he takes.  The roads and lanes are nothing like they were when he was in school- with the old building vanished and new boards propped up in their places- but the blueprint is more or less the same.  He wasn’t lying to Nik when he had said that he was glad to be back. 

Marlas would always be bittersweet to him. It was the city he was born and raised in, after all.

Cycling to the  _ DeVere Corporation _ would  take him twenty  minutes in the morning traffic. But that would mean passing the  _ Akelion _ _ Towers _ . He had decided to  take a longer route instead, which would not only put distance between him and his brother, but would also add ten more  minutes to his commute.   

The sun is out now and the fog dissipated, but there is still a lingering chill it has left behind in the air.  Damen  likes it. He  likes the feel of the wind swiping through his hair, cooling his scalp and lulling his senses. It’s the closest sensation to human touch, and he gives in to the feeling, ignoring the insistent rumblings of his empty stomach. 

Damen reaches five minutes later than scheduled. He hadn’t calculated the time it would take for him to find a spot to park his cycle amongst fancy cars or find his way through the labyrinth of a parking lot. With only ten minutes on his hand, he had only gotten the time to brush his teeth, shave and put on the suit. It was probably a good thing that it was the only suit he owned; or else he would have wasted another five minutes just searching for one. He hadn’t had the time to crackle an egg or put on coffee. Hunger made him angry. Damen just hopes that he finds a coffee dispenser in the building before his brain decides to hand over the reigns to his stomach.

The main building of the DeVere Corporation is huge, built in the heart of downtown. Every inch of the building is stitched in glass. The morning sun catches its reflection and glints off the surface, making its surroundings brighter. Damen had seen the DeVere  building from afar, but this close, it's even bigger than he had estimated it to be.

He walks up the cobbled path to the main entrance in a hurry. 

The reception is huge, split into various sections around  the centre \- seating areas, waiting lounges, help desks cleverly arranged and barricaded by indoor plants.  The reception table in  the centre houses five people, the majority of them attending to calls or previously engaged. 

It's the girl in the middle who catches Damen’s attention- olive skin and dark  hair swept in a tidy bun which is in stark contrast to her white top. She seems to be heading the team, judging by the fact that only she has her name etched to the front of her  desk . He doesn't miss her lovely  smile or the curve of the full breasts under her blouse. He probably looks like  shit \-  hair ruffled and sweating in a cheap suite. 

He hears Nik’s voice in his head,  _ Don’t  _ _ shit _ _ where you eat. _

Sighing to himself, he crosses the distance to  the desk and puts on his most charming  smile . 

‘Hi! Good Morning… ’ He makes a show of ducking down to read the name on  the desk.  ‘ Kashel .’

Kashel smiles at him. He can’t deny the fact that she’s an extremely attractive woman. He would have probably dated her if she weren’t working here.

‘How may I help you?’ she  asks , her brown eyes twinkling in the bright light.

‘ I’m Damen. I am trying to find the  CEO ’s office.  I’m his Personal Assistant, starting today. Which floor is it?’ he  asks , leaning on the glass panel above the desk.

The smile on Kashel’s face falters.  _ Oh _ , she mouths inaudibly, but forces the curve back on her lips quickly. ‘Please give me two minutes,’  she says , picks up the telephone and jabs a button. Soon, there is someone on the other end, to whom she  asks in a tone that means business, ‘Radella, Mr. DeVere Jr’s new  PA is here. Shall I send him through?’

She nods a few times after and ends the call. Turning to face him  she says , ‘Twenty first floor. You’ll find the lifts to your left. Please meet Ms. Paulson there. She’ll be able to help you.’

He cuts the  _ Thanks _ _ sweetheart _ at the end of his tongue and  thanks her with a smile.

Damen is not new to this setting- sleek metal doors, soft halogen lights falling plush on polished hardwood floors, marble pillars surrounded by an array of sofas- the leather soft and inviting and the glass counter tops so clean that he can see his reflection in them. Still, he feels odd walking up to the lifts, surrounded by people who look untouchable in tailored suits and polished shoes, a mask of indifference a constant around their groomed features. Not a lock of their hair makes it out of its stylised stance and their skin has a shine to it that comes from hours of sitting indoors. He feels out of place in his sun burnt skin and unkempt hair. 

It's a long way to  the twenty first floor , the lift stopping several times in between to trade  people .  Damen makes a place for himself at the back, mindlessly watching people get in and out.

The twenty first floor is same by appearance as the reception; only here, there isn't a soul in sight. On crossing the landing, a long corridor stretches ahead of him. On either side is a long row of wooden doors stamped with stainless steel name plates. Two passages cut in - marked as exits. Damen walks the length of the corridor recognising it as the seat of higher authority of the company. The name plates on his sides read so- Vice President\- H. R, President\- Marketing, Chief Officer\- Distribution and so on. It's only when he reaches the end of the line that he reads, 'Laurent DeVere- Chief Executive Officer'.

Next to the office is a set of  desks arranged clumsily in stark contrast to the rest of the  floor . One of the  desks is currently occupied by a lady in a crisp brown coat, hair cropped to the ears and the wrinkles lining her face giving away her age. Her eyebrows are knitted in concentration, eyes trained on the screen  in front of her and her fingers typing  furiously, the clear click of the keys being the only sound in the otherwise quiet  floor . The plate  in front of her reads ‘Radella  Paulson ’.

Damen walks up to her and trying to not startle her, says slowly, 'Hi Mrs. Paulson. I'm Damen. I'm Mr. DeVere Jr’s new PA.'

Mrs. Paulson jerks  her head up from the screen and stares at  Damen like he had told her that he was from Mars.

'Ah... Kashel spoke to you a few minutes ago,' he provides awkwardly. 

Mrs. Paulson nods, as though trying to clear  her head with the action. 'Yes, of course,'  she says , recovering and then sheepishly: 'Sorry, I was in the middle of something.'

In the next  half hour,  Mrs. Paulson briefs him about the company, its origins and organisational structure- all of which  Damen listens to  half heartedly. ' Mr. DeVere Sr. is the Chairman,'  she says placing a calendar and basic stationary on an empty desk two seats to her right. She tips a black  folder on top and referring to it  says , 'This  folder contains the details of all the board members, heads of departments and external partners. You can go through it. You will be reporting directly to the Chairman's nephew however,  Mr. DeVere Jr. As to your official timings, you are to be in office by eight and your work ends at six. I handle Mr. DeVere's  accounts and the  accounts of five others on this floor. So, I am afraid  the CEO is best person to brief you about your responsibilities.' 

Damen nods his head in acknowledgement.

Adjusting her knee length skirt, she says, 'I've put in a request for your computer and additional stationery. You should get it shortly,' and afterwards: 'I'll let  the CEO know that you're here.'

Though Mr. DeVere Jr. was in his office, Damen had not been introduced to him or assigned any work related to the man. Not even a planner related to the his schedule was handed over to him. Instead, he was provided with a stack of files which contained company laws, by-laws and merger details. Mrs. Paulson had a clear set of instructions for him on coming out of the CEO's office: 'Study the files and make notes of your observations'. It was peculiar; it was hardly his job to do any of that. His job was simple- plan the CEO's day, attend his calls, schedule his meetings and jot down the MoM. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Not knowing what to  make of the kind of work he had been assigned, he begrudgingly agrees, settling at his new  desk .

The hours slug painfully slow. His empty  stomach begins to act up. With the help of Mrs. Paulson, he manages to find a pantry three floors down with a coffee vending machine. Even that is insufficient in waking his sleepy senses or quieting his rumbling  stomach .

At his  desk , he turns the pages of the files with a lazy detachment wondering how people sat behind closed doors for hours at an end without choking on their own breaths. His musings bring him to his employer- Mr. DeVere Jr. Apart from  Mrs. Paulson \- who had strode in to inform of his presence- not a soul had entered his office. The Man had not  come out once.  Didn't he need coffee?  Didn't he need to pee?

Maybe he's just buried under a lot of work,  Damen decides finally.

Come lunch hour, he asks Mrs. Paulson to suggest an eatery. She offers to take him to the Deli where she usually prefers to eat. In gratitude, he buys her lunch.

The Deli is nice, bright and airy with a small kitchen and tables arranged outdoors. 

Instead of one, Damen buys two turkey sandwiches for himself to quench the hunger that had been threatening to dissolve his stomach since morning.  Mrs. Paulson keeps throwing him alarmed looks at the pace at which he devours his lunch between eating her own salad. It's only after gulping down an entire sandwich that he stops and apologises to her. 

'Oh, don't you worry,' she waves him off. 'I have a son approximately  your age and growing boys should eat.' At twenty-eight, Damme is hardly ‘growing’. But, there's a maternal tinge in the way she says it and Damen doesn't fight with it . She even insists that he let go of formalities and call her  Radella . 'You can call everyone by name in the company, infact our Chairman encourages it.’

She's a kind and warm woman, Damen discovers.

They delve into conversation after that, meandering through small talk; before, somehow, his employer becomes the topic of discussion. ‘ Laurent is the hardest working man I know,'  Radella tells him. 'Sometimes he works all night. Being his  PA is quite taxing. You have to be willing to keep up with him. The one before you couldn't handle it.'  Damen is unsure if he should be impressed or alarmed by the fact. 

' Mr. DeVere Sr. is very proud of his nephew,' she continues. 'But  Laurent is still young. You know how it is.'

Damen wants to pursue the meaning behind her last statement, but she quickly changes topic.

Once back in the  DeVere building, Damen catches Kashel’s eyes at the lobby. He smiles at her before heading for the lifts.

Damen jumps into work after that, able to concentrate now that his stomach is full. Occasionally, a door or two along the corridor opens and people spill out of it. They carry on quietly, only the click of the metal handle giving them away. 

Laurent’s office on the other hand is resolutely shut.  Damen wonders whether the man even ate anything- he hadn’t seen anyone bring him lunch. Out of curiosity,  Damen pulls out the man’s profile from the file containing the details of the board members. At just twenty seven, Laurent  DeVere Jr. has two master degrees, heading three major divisions of the company and is responsible for several mergers. His uncle  _ did _ have a reason to be proud of him. 

By the time  Damen finishes with a  section of company laws, it’s already eight. He had managed to scrape through nearly half of the stack, making observations of his own.  There were two loopholes in the distribution section, which he had put under a red tab.  Locking the files inside the desk drawer, he heads towards the washrooms to relieve himself. 

Nik had mentioned in passing that the DeVere towers housed an excellent fitness centre for the benefit of its employees- complete with a fully equipped  gym and a pool. He could book a slot after six. After all, why pay for a  gym subscription when he can reap the benefits for free? He could use it as an excuse to speak to  Kashel as well. He may not be able to date her, but they could always be friends. 

Damen is a little disappointed when he finds that  Kashel isn’t at her desk. The two other receptionists beside her empty spot are busy on the phone.  He spots another helpdesk- almost on the other side of the expanse- nestled into a corner.  He walks over leisurely, crossing a  corridor and stills, his legs unwilling to move under his weight. 

Standing in the the corridor and behind double glass doors, is a man with striking blond hair that touches his shoulders and skin the colour of pearls. A slight figure dressed in a bespoke suit. Even though only half of his profile is visible to Damen, the angle doesn’t mar the symmetry of his face. The blue of his eyes is so bright under the halogen lights that it would put the depths of oceans to shame. He is talking to someone on the  phone , gaze unwavering. Now and then he blinks his pale lashes, its soft shadows dancing across the apple of his cheeks. 

Coming out of his trance,  Damen is just about to will his legs to move when  the man pockets his  phone , turns in his direction and catches him  staring . 

_ Shit. _

Before he realises it,  the man is walking towards the  door in sure steps. On instinct,  Damen opens and holds the glass  door for  the man to enter the lobby. To cover the awkwardness of being caught  staring , he blurts out the only thing that comes to his mind, ‘Hey, I’m new to this place.  Do you know how I can book a slot at the gym here?’

Standing just a few feet away, the blond is  almost a  foot shorter than  Damen . He looks at  Damen’s form  from head to toe . The gesture would be seducing in any other context, but subjected to it along with a grimace, it's  almost humiliating.  Damen watches as a crease forms between the other’s brows- clearly in disgust to  Damen’s shabby appearance.

‘No booking required. You can walk in anytime,’ the other says.  Even though his tone is  even , it is laced with a layer of repulsion.

With anybody else,  Damen would have introduced himself and indulged in small talk, but now, he simply thanks the guy with a tight smile and walks off, the attraction from before melting away with the distance. 

The air is cool when he steps outside; the moon full, and grey clouds drifting peacefully in the overhead sky.

He reaches home an hour later, having stopped on the way for dinner. Despite living in for just over two weeks, the small layout of his studio flat has  already become familiar to  Damen . The sheets for his meagre  bed are rumpled with the blanket pushed to the edge, there are clothes strewn on the floor and the bedside table crowding the  already small space. 

Sighing,  Damen collects the random pieces of clothing and dumps them all onto the chair beside his  bed . There is a pile of dishes in the  sink which he washes after clearing the trash. 

Having only one  suit meant that he would have to wear  it the next day as well. It didn't matter  now , for  the next day was a Friday. The weekend would give him the time to do the laundry and make a trip to the local dry cleaner. He makes a mental note of roping  Nik in to  suit shopping.  With the money he had, it would only be sufficient for two more suits- in the lower range at that. But it would have to do for now. 

Taking care to hang his  suit on the wardrobe door knob, he strips naked and flops on to the bed. For a moment, Damen contemplates calling  Nik and telling him about his day, but the thought jumps his mind when the steady stream of breeze blowing in through the window sill begins to lull him. The impending winter can be felt in the faint chill the air brings. It's soothing- its invisible fingers raking through his hair and caressing his skin. The day's exhaustion catches and  Damen falls into a dreamless slumber.

**Thursday**

             Damen wakes up the next morning to the gaudy sound of his alarm, a missed call and a text from Nik. Reluctantly sitting up, he attempts to clear his eyes of the sleep by rubbing the back of his knuckles against the bulge of his sockets in circles.

_ Meet _ _ me at  _ _ Kyro _ _ ’s on Sunday at 8. I want to hear everything about your new job and I have something to tell you in person. My treat. _

_ Damn straight it is!  _ _ Meet _ _ you then.  _ He shoots a reply with a smile and  heads to  shower .

The rusty metal of the shower head hisses to life above him and hits the top of his head and back with a spray of cold water. Damen lets out a hiss of his own and curses. In the two weeks he had been living in the apartment, Damen had discovered that he would have to be lucky in order to wake to up to a hot shower\- with the residents of the building consuming the limited supply before sunrise. He rinses his body and hair quickly and dresses. Still having time to spare, he puts on a pot of coffee and cracks two eggs on a pan. On further thinking, he stuffs a pair of trainers, gym shorts and a worn cotton t-shirt into a duffel bag, finishes his breakfast and head out.

When Damen reaches his desk at work, there's a state of the art laptop waiting for him. However, his joy is short lived when Radella states its purpose and provides him with the credentials to the company portal. Sighing, Damen gets to typing the previous day’s handwritten reports. 

‘Oh, forgot to tell you,’  Radella turns to face him from her desk.  ‘The CEO is in a conference for the duration of today.  So you can finish the  reports and mail it to me when you’re done. I'll send the copy to Laurent.’

Damen thanks her and  gets back  to typing . 

Come lunch hour,  Damen opts to eat a wrap from a street vendor. He should be locking on his expenses if he should survive till payday. 

The  gym is an ostentatious affair. The equipments high end, the showers clean and the air conditioner raining cool air from the ceiling . It’s nothing  like the rusty and cramped community  gym he was used to in Delpha. There is muddled pop music coming from somewhere in the back, the bass amplified and beating in sync with his pulse.  This might be the only thing Damen will like about this job.

**Sunday**

            Kyro’s is a pub nestled in a deserted nook of downtown called the _Bylut_. Situated in the periphery of the suburbs, the residents of the area are a stubborn mix of students and middle aged workers. They say that Bylut used be an industrial zone in the nineteenth century and after the war, the entire strip was demolished to house war struck citizens and orphans. The area is notorious for frequent street brawls and rowdy dwellers. The crowd of the pub, even more so. The young crowd boisterous, driving the bouncers over the edge. To think that the bar would be less crowded on a Sunday night was a mistake. Damen forces himself through the entrance, shoving aside a couple who look more like they’re eating each other's face and less like they’re kissing. Fortunately or unfortunately for him, he’s huge. After quite a lot of nudging and pushing off inebriated and hall naked patrons, he finds himself at the bar which is comparatively less crowded and much quieter than the dance floor. Nik is settled on a high bar stool, making him look taller than he already is. He's nursing a bottle of beer, plucking the frayed end of the label absently. His usually pleasant features are contorted pensively under the dim lighting of the pub. It's unlike him.

Damen taps  Nik on the shoulder and startles him. 

'Geez, you scared me,’ Nik says wide eyed, pulling him into a one armed hug. 

Damen slides onto the bar stool next to  Nik chuckling while  the latter signals the bartender for two more bottles of his beer. 

‘Don’t you need a haircut?’  Nik asks him, gesturing to the curls covering his forehead with the bottle in his hand.

Damen rolls his eyes, 'Give it a break,  Nik . I'll go the Barber tomorrow. ’

He expects a  reply from  Nik , something on the lines of how dressing smart is important in creating first impressions and building trust in the workplace. But the only  reply he gets is a distracted, 'Okay. ’

The bartender comes back with their beers at the same time and prevents Damen from pressing further on the distant look in Nik’s eyes.

'How’s the job so far? And your Boss? What's his name? Ah... Laurent? ’

'I haven't  met him , actually. ’ Damen takes a swig from the  bottle . The cold beer is a welcome change from the stiffly heat of the bar.

'Haven’t  met him ? It's already been two days, right? ’

'Ya. The guy was busy. I’ll probably get to meet him tomorrow, ’ he says without going into details. 

Nik only hums in reply, his gaze stuck on the condensed pool around  the base of his bottle .

They’ve known each other for over fifteen years now that a tilt of a brow or the set of jaw will  give them away . For  Damen , it’s hardly difficult to make the connection.

‘Does that thing you wanted to tell me in person have something to do with your shitty mood?’ he asks, nudging Nik’s arm with  the base of his bottle .

Nik nods slowly,  still not looking at  Damen and after a beat sighs. Knowing  Nik , probably relieved that he wasn’t the one to bring up the topic.

‘Some arsehole jammed the mainframes in our head office. It has caused a massive outage and they are calling me to fix it.’

‘Okay…’  Damen drawls out. ‘I  still don’t see why that’s gotten you in a twist.’

‘Going by the initial reports they have sent me, it may take up to two months to clear it up. I would have to reinstall everything and reconfigure it again. It’s a lot of work,’  Nik says, frustration hugging his voice and face. ‘I forced you to come here and I don’t want to leave you alone…’ he trails off.

Damen has never doubted Nik’s loyalty as a friend, but sometimes, he’s surprised by how much Nik thinks of him. Nik had helped him relocate, supported him financially and gotten him a job when he couldn’t find one on his own. Damen is already indebted to Nik. He would feel extremely guilty if he would let Nik beat himself up over something so trivial. He would miss Nik, of course, but it’s his turn to be a good friend now, and he’s not going to give up on the chance.

‘ Come on  Nik,’ he says chuckling, hoping that the levity of his tone will ease  Nik .  ‘I’m still going to be here after two months. Go to Sicyon. Fix the servers and  come back. Don’t overthink it Man . Besides,  I’m not a small kid. I  can take care of myself.’

Nik lets out a whoosh of air from his mouth. ‘Ya tell that to me when you can go a whole week without doing something stupid.’ His relief is evident in the upward tilt of his lips. 

‘Like always, I’m flattered by your confidence in me,’ Damen says, mocking an elegant bow with his bottle in the air. 

Nik’s face sets itself into a scowl again, the dim lights playing with the wrinkles on his forehead. There's a warning in his eyes when he  says , 'I mean it  Damen . Don't you go anywhere near  Kastor . ’

Damen \- who’s in the middle of gulping down his beer- stops. It’s astonishing how even after all these years, the mere mention of his brother’s name crashes his good spirits. He doesn’t want to bump into  Kastor more than  Nik wants him to.

Damen nods sullenly, forcefully swallowing the liquid already in his mouth. It tastes bitter now. 

To switch the topic and as far from  Kastor as possible, he asks  Nik , ‘When do you have to leave?’

‘My flight is at 12:30.’ Nik jerks his elbow to take a peek at his watch.  ‘So in another four hours, I would say.’

‘Then what are you still doing here?  Do you know how long it takes to get out of Bylut in this hour?  Go!’  Damen shoves  Nik out of his bar stool. Although  Nik protests initially, citing that he’ll  get to the airport in time, he concedes later. 

‘The tab’s got it covered.’  Nik slaps him on the back. ‘Drink responsibly.’

‘Aye aye Captain.’ Damen tips his now empty bottle in the air.

‘I’ll call you, brother.’

With that,  Nik retreats from  the bar table. 

Something nags at  Damen . He calls to  Nik , who is near the threshold of  the bar . ‘How did you get me this job?’ he asks.

‘A colleague knows the Chairman,’  Nik says shrugging. ‘Why?’

‘Just curious.’

Damen sits in his place long after that, sipping  beer after  beer . The crowd behind him is getting louder and increasingly rumbustious. The music is a distant noise in his head and the  beer a stale taste in his mouth. He still  can’t fight off the uneasiness that comes with mentioning Kastor’s name.  By now, Damen is no stranger to living rough, but the last month had been excruciating in its own way.  Losing his job in  Delpha , unable to pay his rent, fixing a meal out of scraps- those memories  come flooding into his mind. ‘Please  come back Man . I’ll help  you out here. You  can’t run forever  Damen !’ he remembers Nik’s pleading voice over the phone.  Nik had been coaxing him to return to Marlas for years before that; unemployment had made it inevitable. 

Damen rotates the empty bottle on the coaster- watching the condensing droplets protest the movement- thinking of the undated flight ticket from  Delpha to Marla he had received in the mail with a note at the end  which read:  _ For you, when you want it-  _ _ Nik _ _. _

He is hauled into the presence by a  hand on his shoulder and a purr in his ear saying, ‘I couldn’t help but notice what strong arms you have.’ Turning around he finds a young woman- probably his age- in a skimpy silver dress. There might have been a jacket at one point, but in its absence, her long limbs and the outline of her luscious breasts are on display. Though the colour of her eyes is indecipherable in the lowlights of the bar, there’s a glint to it that promises a night of fun. Normally, Damen tries not to indulge when he’s tipsy, but now, he can’t seem to care. Maybe this is what  he needs . A random fuck. So he smiles, hoping that it would be sufficient in expressing his interest.  Going by the sly look that crosses her face, it is.

‘ Your place or mine ?’ she asks, sliding her bare thigh against the inside of his. 

His excuse for an apartment is just five minutes away by walk.  He needs be at work by eight the next day.  _ Mine _ _ ,  _ he should say. 

When the woman slides further into his lap and bites his ear, tracing its outline with the tip of her tongue insistently, as if trying to coax the answer out of him, ‘Yours,’ he says. 

*

**Monday**

           Damen is proud of his inexplicable ability to not host a hangover. In fact, he  feels much better after a night of wild drinking. Nik’s theory is that it is because of his low blood pressure. To  Damen , it doesn’t matter as long as he can drink his guts out and wake up relaxed and rested. 

Now, Damen feels a minor headache forming at the back of his mind. He groggily opens his eyes to a dull room. There is no source of light except for the night lamp spilling sombre light into the small space. The space around him is covered in clothes- some his own. He spots his leather jacket in the mix. When he gets up on his elbows, the bed creaks under him. The air is stifled and humid. Slowly, the memories of the previous night prop up in his head and his surroundings begin to make more sense. 

There’s a pool of dark blonde hair on the pillow next to his and a smooth back disappearing into the covers. The sex had been fantastic and  _ wild.  _ She  hadn’t given him her name, and Damen wasn’t obliged to give her his. 

Damen picks up his jeans and t-shirt and dresses quickly. If he  hadn’t heard his alarm, it must be before seven. He hopes that he's lucky enough to get hot water in the shower today. His  phone is dead when he pulls  it out of his pocket. Swearing under his breath, he begins searching for a clock or a  phone or anything that can tell him the  time . Finally, he finds a small bedside  timepiece peeking from underneath an article of clothing. 

_ Fuck _ . 

Angry red lines stare at him forming an ‘8’.

Damen runs out of the  apartment and onto the streets. Fortunately,  he’s still in Bylut; unfortunately,  he’s on the opposite end of his  apartment . A run to the subway station and a twenty minute commute in its dingy cabin leaves him at his doorstep. After washing his mouth clean of the cheap alcohol, he puts on his suit and dashes off to work. 

It’s a little shy of nine when he reaches his  desk \- sweating and panting from cycling like a madman. Radella is standing in front of  her desk , her face scrunched up over  her desk phone. 

She hears his footsteps on the hardwood floor and jerks her  head up . ‘Thank God you’re here,’ she says, her breath leaving her in a loud exhale. She points her finger in the direction of the  CEO ’s  office . ‘Go in. He’s been asking after you.’

-

**Author's Note:**

> Laurent enters in the next chapter!!!
> 
> Do let me know what you think! :D


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